


For the Blood is the Life

by Lexa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Vampire Mycroft, Vampire Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexa/pseuds/Lexa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Greg thought he knew all there was to know about the Holmes boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

“You're a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“You are standing there, telling me you're a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck you.” I shove him back as I get out of the chair. “Fuck you. I just told you how I feel about you. I came here to tell you how I feel, and you don't have the guts to give me a real answer. Or even a decent lie!”

I turn around to grab my coat, almost happy that I've spilled my drink onto his rug in the process. _I hope it stains._

“No, you don't understand.”

“Oh, I understand plenty. You can't be bothered with the likes of me. Some lower class dullard whose life gets dirty and real. No, it would not do for you to be associating in such a way with someone like me. Well, let me relieve you of my presence.” I push past and take two steps before turning back on him. “Fuck you, Mycroft Holmes.”

I feel hands on my arms then my back hits a wall. I try to shove against him but he pins me with his body. 

“Listen to me. Just please, Gregory, listen to me.”

It's the look on his face that does it. It's one I haven't seen before, not even standing over Sherlock at his worst. 

But now that he has my attention, he doesn't seem to know what to say. A Holmes at a loss for words? He can't seem to look at me either. 

“I know what it took for you to tell me what you did. It is more than I would have been able to do. And you should know that- you are not alone in those feelings.”

Now his eyes come up and what I see is what I had hoped to see. What I had been praying to see. He's close enough and I don't fight the thought. I lean toward him and kiss him.

And he kisses me back. And it feels so good. I try to bring my arms up, I need to hold him to me. Then he pulls back, an angry look on his face. But somehow I know it's not directed at me.

“You're right, I don't understand. If you care about-”

Now his look tears into my heart. It's the look I've seen on next of kin, when they know why I'm there and what I have to say. It's knowing a fact and trying to deny it at the same time.

“Gregory. Look down.” His voice is so quiet. So sad.

“What?”

“Just please, look down.”

I mean to only glance down but what I see freezes me. I can't move, can't look away, can't breathe. I hear him say something but I can't make it out. I can't do anything til he gives me a hard shake. 

“Gregory!”

My eyes snap up to his. Then they look past him, and up and around. And I still can't breathe.

The slap across my face forces me to gulp in a lungful. I stare at him again, the words screaming in my head before I can speak them.

“Not on the floor. Not-” 

My eyes slide back up to the ceiling three inches from his head. Then down to the floor at least five feet away. 

I barely hear my words myself, so I'm not surprised he doesn't. He leans in, closer now than when I had kissed him. “Gregory? What did you say?”

I hear the rushing in my ears and know what's about to happen but I can't stop it. I manage to look up at him, “please don't drop me,” before it all goes black.

******

When I wake up, I'm back in my flat. On the sofa covered with my coat. I don't move, just listening if anyone else is there. I don't hear anything, but then would I?

I don't so much sit up as slide off the sofa onto the floor. A shudder runs thru me and I wrap myself in my coat. 

A bit of yellow catches my eye and I focus on a note on my coffee table. It takes a minute for my hand to come up and open it.

**Call me when you want answers - A**

I do. But there's someone I have to see first.


	2. Coming to terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg does his research.

In truth, it takes a few days before I can get myself to head over. Days of staring at nothing instead of doing paperwork. Doubting myself that it really happened. And wondering why, if it was real, my feelings toward Mycroft hadn't changed. Wondering exactly how crazy might I be.

“John here?”

A hand lifts than falls back. “Shopping.”

“Good.” 

Sherlock looks at me, actually sitting up when he sees me closing their front door and the kitchen one as well. “Lestrade, what are you doing?”

I shove my hands in my coat pockets and look at him. “You mean you don't know? He didn't tell you?” 

“Tell me- oh oh OH. He told you, didn't he?” Sherlock jumps off the sofa, his hands missing the sides of his dressing gown in his flustered state. He glares at me as he manages to tie it close, pacing back and forth. “What did you do? Do you know how long I had to listen to him going on about not telling? What could you have possibly done to have made him tell you that?”

“Told him that I'm in love with him.”

That stops him dead. “No, you can't be. No one loves Mycroft.”

I grab him and spin him into the door. “I do! I do and I will not hear anything against him from you, Sherlock! Not anymore!” 

“How touching. But why are you here? Is it maybe to see if-”

Course he knows what I'm going to ask. And being Sherlock, he has answer in a grand way. So again I find myself near banging my head on a ceiling, lifted up there by someone I didn't think could surprise me.

“Satisfied?”

“He moved faster.”

“He must have just fed. Was Anthea nearby?”

“What? It was at the club, I don't know.”

Sherlock sets us back down and lets me go. For once he seems almost considerate of my situation and doesn't say anything.

I sit on the arm of John's chair, hands back in my pockets. “So John doesn't know?”

“No.”

I watch him as he goes and sits in his chair. I stare at him, seeing if he looks any different now that I know. And he doesn't. Still the same annoying git I've known all this time.

“What are you going to do now?”

“How you mean?”

“This new knowledge of yours, what are you going to do with it?”

“Am I going to tell anyone?” He nods. “Been three days since Mycroft told me. You seen anyone besides him looking at you? Besides, who am I going to tell? Who'd believe me?”

“Plus you wouldn't hurt Mycroft.”

I stand up then. “I should go. Tell John I'll see him around.” 

He waits til my hand is on the door knob. “Lestrade.”

I don't turn around. “What?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Damned if I know.”

****

The next night I'm outside my flat as one of Mycroft's cars pulls up. I stand there for a minute as the driver holds the door open, then I step in.

“Almost don't recognize you without your phone.” 

There's a smile, something I usually don't get from her. “Det-”

I shake my head. “Just Greg tonight, please.”

She nods in understanding. We drive for a bit as the questions run through my head.

“How much can you answer me?”

“Mr. Holmes said to answer all your questions.”

“But don't offer anything more.” 

“I'm not in the habit of doing so, but he said I could if I saw fit to.”

“You know I've been round to Sherlock's.” 

“I do.”

“He mentioned you.”

“I'm sure he did.”

“So was what he said true?”

“What exactly did he say?”

“I said something about Mycroft having done something faster and he said he must have just fed and asked if you were around.”

“Never one to mince words, Mr. Holmes is. Yes. I saw you pull up as I was driving away.”

“He tell you why I was there?”

“No, just that it was a personal matter. An important one. It was his idea to leave you the note when I took you back to your flat.” I see her watching me, looking for what I don't know. “You should know, this is as strange for me as it is for you. I never expected to have to explain this to anyone.”

“Why is it you?”

“Mr. Holmes wasn't sure you would want to see him again.”

I look out the window, not focusing on anything. “Tell me the truth about them. What can they do?”

“What do you know?”

“How dusty ceilings can be.”

She laughs. “That is how he showed me. Hard to argue against that.”

 _Did you pass out as well?_ “Yeah, it is. So they just float up like that?”

“That one they tend to guard a bit more so I can't be sure.”

“Are they the same, Sherlock and Mycroft?”

“From what I've seen, very similar. Though both the Mr. Holmeses have hinted at some kind of difference, but they haven't explained it to me. My guess it's regarding more their attitude toward their situation rather than a physical trait.”

I nod. “Reckon I should just go down the list, then.”

“If you wish.”

A deep breath. “Daylight. Seen both of them out and about in it.”

“A fallacy. Or rather, a comforting legend. But they are weaker, closer to us normals even if they're indoors.”

“Normals?” I look at her. “Is that what they say?”

Anthea smiles at me. “It's what we are. Just normal people. Why do you think Mr. Holmes never says anything to your Sergeant Donovan about calling him a freak, when he's so quick to defend himself against other labels?”

“But they're not. I mean, they are but- that they think so.” I look back out the window. “Sorry, keep going. I've seen them eat. The both of them, real food I mean.”

“Their bodies can process food but it doesn't do enough to sustain them. Like sweets in a way. It can stretch out the time between when they need to feed, though."

The next for some reason makes me smile. “They can't change into anything, can they?”

Another laugh. “No. No beasts or mist. Just them.”

“Right.” Now comes the one been thinking the most about. “And the mind tricks?”

“They can't do the hypnotizing bit, not really. They can give you a suggestion but about the same as a good salesmen or a con artist. You can shake it off.”

“So no making me forget all this?”

“No, not really.”

“Okay, what else?”

“Their senses are enhanced, though again, they work better at night then during the day. And not to the degree as in the books. Not with as little as they drink nowadays, anyway.”

I stop myself from asking about the drinking, letting her get everything out first.

“They can move fast enough to not be seen.”

“Faster the closer after they've fed.”

“Yes, just like food for us. The longer they go without it, the weaker they get.”

“You can just say it, you know.”

“Say what?”

“It's real to me, Anthea. I'm not avoiding it, so don't go avoiding the word on my behalf. I'm a big boy.”

“Facing a situation no one in their right mind would expect.”

I take a breath then look her in the eyes. “Say it.”

“Blood. They're stronger after they drink the blood.”

“How often?”

“Depends. Mr. Holmes drinks less than his brother. But by choice, not by need, I think. He tends to push it in an unhealthy way. Worse when we are traveling. He says it's because he doesn't want to take the chance of discovery. But I wonder. The younger Mr. Holmes drinks more frequently if not actually more in one sitting, as it were.”

“Does Mycroft- I mean,” I can feel myself blush as I sort of wave toward my neck.

“No, he doesn't.” There's a smile there I can't quite place. One she's directing at me more than toward a memory. “They have small knives, had them for forever. The blade is so sharp, you don't feel the cut and it doesn't leave a scar. When he lets me, I cut the palm of my hand and hold it over a glass. How much depends on what he needs. But he knows how much I can spare.”

“Just a regular part of the job, is it?”

“For me, yeah. I don't ask about anyone before me.”

I rub at my eyes. “Who else knows?”

“Including you and me?”

“Yeah.”

“The Mr. Holmeses.”

“You're kidding me!”

Anthea shakes her head. “If there is anyone else, Mr. Holmes has never had reason to tell me. So I will not speak for the world, but I can swear for the whole of London. You and I are the only normals alive who know their secret.”

“But why did he tell me? Why didn't he just lie to me?”

“Why don't you ask him yourself?”

That's when I notice that the car has stopped outside the club. I stare for a long moment, then open the door. 

“Right.”


	3. Back where it started.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing Mycroft.

I find Mycroft with only the small lamps by the chairs turned on. There's drinks set out and he's in his shirt sleeves. I stand for a moment before sitting in the other chair. 

“I wasn't sure you would come.” His voice is quiet again, almost like it was that night. 

I reach for my glass before answering. “If Anthea had told me when I got into the car, I might not have. But we were talking then there we were at the door.” I shrug as I take a drink. “Seemed impolite not to.”

He nods, not touching his drink yet. 

“I thought I had an answer for every possible reason you could give me. Our schedules. Having to keep it a secret. Sherlock. Even a way to leave with some dignity if you didn't feel the same. My fault for thinking I could have all the bases covered when dealing with a Holmes.”

“Gregory, I am-”

“And then there's my passing out and Anthea having to see me home. Not my proudest. But reckon all part of her job, ain't it? Hope you pay her enough.”

“Gregory,”

“Course, got to threaten Sherlock, as much good as that ever does. And let's not forget getting to spend four days doubting my sanity.” I drain the glass and surprise myself with how hard I set it back on the table. 

He doesn't try to speak this time. He just sits there, still-like, not really looking at me.

“Suppose I should be flattered you told me the truth. Must mean you really care, right? Anthea says me and her are the only, how do you say it 'normals?', who know. In all of London. Imagine that.” I let my head fall against the back of the chair.

“And do you know what the maddest part of all of this has been, Mycroft Holmes? The part that just twists my mind up more than anything? Can you guess? Can you 'deduce' what it could be?”

He clears his throat. “I would not presume to do so.”

“It's the fact that I still feel the same way about you. Same as when I last walked through that door. I'm in love with you, Mycroft. God help me, I am. And all the hopes for us I had that night, they're still there. Even after all this. Isn't that just the craziest thing?”

I wipe at my eyes before the tears can come and stand up. I reach into my pocket for the key I've been carrying around all week and set it next to his glass. “To my flat. I've heard Sherlock and Anthea talk on it. When- if you want to tell me yourself,” I shrug and turn to go. 

It's not a hard grab to my hand, but a definite one. I turn to see him staring at the key. 

“I fear I've forgotten what it's like to hope for something like that.”

I lean down to kiss him on the cheek. “Come to me, and I'll show you. Good night, Mycroft.”


	4. The waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are they worth it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter, to be sure, but one to show I do intend to continue the work.
> 
> Thanks to all who waited.

Seven days.

“Greg?”

Seven days it's been and not a word from Mycroft.

A hand grabs my arm and gives a little shake.

“Greg?”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry John.” I slip my mobile back in my pocket. “He done yet or what?”

“Yeah, he has been for a bit now, actually.” There's a look on his face. “You all right?”

“Course I am. So, where is he so he can dazzle me with his brilliance?” I finally look for Sherlock, only to see-

“Yeah, that's why I was asking. Your team's pretty much packed up and the body's on its way to the morgue.” He holds out a folded paper to me. “Sherlock's notes.”

_Christ._ “Thanks, John.” I don't even bother looking at the paper before shoving it in my pocket. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

“Okay. I'll be on my way then.”

“John! Wait!” I rub at my eyes. “You free for a pint after I get off my shift tonight? Should only be a couple more hours.”

“Yeah, sure. The usual place?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

*********

“So, what's up?”

“I wish I knew.” I take a drink, don't even taste it. 

“Okay, let's start off with an easy one. Who do you keep expecting to hear from?”

_Easy one. And not._ “I told someone I loved them. Bit over a week ago.”

I can see the wheels turning as John nods. More and more like Sherlock every day. Christ.

“I can guess what you're going to say, John.”

“And what's that?”

“That I should just call them. Maybe go round to see them. Maybe even give it up.”

“So why haven't you?”

I have to smile. “If I told you my being divorced was the least complicated thing about this, would that give you a hint?”

Another drink, my eyes keeping on the glass instead of looking at him.

“Are they worth it?”

“I think so. Just not sure if they think I am.”

“Okay, there's only one thing I have to say to that, Greg Lestrade. Anyone who doesn't think you're worth it is an idiot.”

I think I'm scaring John with how long I'm laughing. “If only you knew, John.”

*********

Two nights on, I'm walking up to my flat when I see the car parked across the street. I can make out the driver, but not who's in the back. 

I'm tired. Too tired if it's just Anthea come to take me for another ride. But if it's him-

“If it's Anthea, not tonight. But if it's you, I gave you the key for a reason. ” I turn toward the step, then stop. “And if you're just bringing the key back, slip it under the door then go. I won't bother you again.”

I make myself do my usual when I step into my flat. Pockets emptied, coat hung up, tie off. A second to see if I'm hungry enough to heat up something.

One foot's in the bedroom when I hear the key in the lock. The door opens and closes before I'm able to make myself turn around.

And he's there.

“Show me, Gregory.”

I force myself to take a deep breath before I walk over to him. He's still as a statue, eyes staring at me. He's scared. 

And he's letting me see that.

I smile as I take his umbrella from him and hang it from the closet door. Then I run my hands up his arms, letting them rest on his shoulders. “I have you, Mycroft. Just let go.” And I lean forward and kiss him.


	5. Mycroft's visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's at Greg's at last.

He doesn't return the kiss. But I feel his hand at my back, keeping me there. So I keep kissing him, letting him know I'm not giving up. I'm too close to what I want, it's not going to be me that backs away.

Then, little by little, I feel him relax under my hands. His other arm comes up around me. There's a dart of his tongue against my lips. 

At last, he leans down the bit taller than me he is and gives me an honest to God kiss. Mycroft Holmes is kissing me. 

Only when I have to, do I take a breath before kissing him again. I let my mouth fall open and he takes the invitation. And now I'm having to hold on to stay standing. Cause it's him and it's good and I've waited so long.

I pull Mycroft closer and deepen the kiss. Even so, half of me keeps expecting to cross some line that makes him have to pull away. Makes him take a step back and wonder if he really wants this. 

“No.”

I look at him with a start. “No what?”

“No, I'm not going to leave. I may take my time to make reach a decision, but once I have,” he's smiling at me now, a smile like I've never seen on him before, “I stand by it. No matter what comes.”

“How did you- you can't, can you?”

He chuckles and I smile at the feel of it. “I felt the hesitation in your kiss, Gregory. It wasn't hard to work out what could be the cause of it. I am afraid, Gregory Lestrade, that you are stuck with me.”

“I can think of worse fates. I could've fancied Sherlock.”

“Not even in jest, Gregory.”

“Fair enough.” I give him another kiss. “Thank you.”

“It is I who should thank you.” His hand comes up, just shy of touching my face. I lean into the touch, my eyes still on him. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome, love.” 

There's a look on his face now. “You mean that, don't you?”

“I do. And I don't expect you to say it back, Mycroft. Not now. But maybe someday.” I take his hand as I step back. “You here, that's enough.”

He looks like he's about to say something, then just nods. But he grips my hand tighter.

“Offer you a cuppa?”

“Yes, please.”

I smile. “Have a seat. Won't take but a minute.” I show him the sofa, stealing another kiss before going to the kitchen. I set the water to boil and rinse out the kettle. “There, now that I am out of the room, feel free to make any facial expression you wish as you look about.”

“Gregory, I would not-”

“No, go on. Won't be anything my ex didn't do when she came over.” 

“How, how is she?”

“Taken up with another bloke. Not any of the ones she was with when-” I stop, my hand reaching for the tea. “She's fine. Just going to leave it at that.”

“I'm sorry, Gregory.”

“Don't be. It doesn't hurt, not really. More like the feeling that it should, you know. It's over, we've moved on.” I grab the cups and spoons, then search for the tray to put everything on. “Tea might not be up to snuff for you, but it's a nice one. The night tea, not the morning.”

“And the difference is?”

“Morning is in the bags. Safer that way, usually half blind with sleep in the mornings.”

There's silence coming from him. I have to smile, imagining the look on his face. “Gregory?”

“It's all right, Mycroft. I promise to never serve that to you.” I put the tea in the kettle right before the water boils.

“Thank you.”

“In fact, make it easier for you. Night tea's in the cupboard right of the sink. Stay out of the left one and you'll be fine.”

“I will remember that.”

“Good.” Sugar and milk on the tray. I remember that I have some biscuits. Last of a gift and better than my usual. I fuss with them on the plate to give the tea time to finish up.

“So you only take coffee at work?”

“Yeah, one of my ways of keeping them separate, you know?”

“Yes, I know how important, though usually impossible, that is.”

A quick check to make sure I have everything. “Funny how it gets harder and easier to do that the longer you're in, isn't it?” I carry the tray into the front room and set it on the table.

“Shall I be mother? Only fair since you have done all the preparation.”

“Yeah, alright.” I sit down next to him on the sofa, not too close so his arm risks bumping me, but close enough.

“Do you take it the same way you take your coffee?”

“A bit less, but yeah.” I frown. “When have you ever seen the way I take my coffee?”

“I have had occasion to visit you at the Yard, Gregory. A new PC, I believe it was.”

“I remember now. Took him three tries. Almost told him to leave off it, but he was set on getting it right.”

He hands me my cup. I grab a biscuit before I sit back and watch him. I swear I've smiled more tonight than in the past two weeks but I can't help it. 

Mycroft takes a cautious sip of his tea. Either it's passable or he doesn't want to hurt my feelings cause he takes a real drink. The biscuit is met with a better response and I make a note to buy some more.

“Send me the name of one of your favorites, one of your cheaper favorites, and I'll get some for when next you come round.”

“You don't have to, Gregory. The tea is fine.”

“Humor me, love.”

I think I see the flash of a smile but I can't be sure. 

“A compromise. I'll have Anthea send you a small selection, both for me and for you to try.” He stops my protest. “It is a failing of mine. Some people have to force their favorite books on everyone, I do the same with tea. But you can supply the biscuits.”

“I thought they passed muster. Fine, but I'll be mother from now on then. Even at your club.”

“Shall we make it a regular thing, then? Pencil in times to share a pot? I used to do that with a favorite professor at University. Haven't had anyone I wished to since then.”

“All right. I'd like that.” I reach for another biscuit. “Uni, how long ago was that for you?” I can feel my face get hot with embarrassment. “No, forget I asked that. Sorry.”

“Gregory, if there is anything you want to know, please ask.”

I look down at my cup. “That's the thing. I'm not sure what I want to know.”

“I know what Anthea told you.”

“Does she know everything?”

“She knows- enough for her. But maybe not enough for you.”

I nod, still not looking at him. Then I settle on one question. “Just tell me this for tonight. Why did you tell me about you? Why'd you risk it?”

“How much did you risk telling me your feelings?”

“It's not the same.”

I hear him set his cup down, then he reaches for mine. 

“Both admissions had an element of risk, Gregory. Neither of us could know what the other's reaction would be. And it was going to change the nature of our association, one way or the other.” 

I look up as he puts a hand on my arm.

“We both could have stayed quiet, continued on as we were. But something in us wouldn't allow that. I don't regret telling you, Gregory. And I hope to never make you regret telling me.”

He leans forward to kiss me and I go to meet him halfway when- 

His mobile goes off.

“Bollocks!”

“Mycroft Holmes, did you just curse?” I feel my eyes about ready to pop outta my skull. Such a curse word. I never.

“It does, on occasion, occur. Usually with regards to Sherlock.” He's trying to be all posh now but it's too late. I slap my hand over my mouth to keep the laughter in as he answers. It's no good so I run into the bedroom and giggle like a loon.

After a bit I manage to get myself set to rights and open up the door. Only to find him standing there, hand up to knock. I put my finger to his lips before he can speak, then give him a kiss. 

“I've got to be up early tomorrow anyway. Court. You go off and save the country. Or is it still the Empire to you?”

“Don't be cheeky, Gregory.” He kisses me back, long enough that there's a rap at the front door. 

I smile as he pulls back chagrined. “Text me when you can. Or have Anthea do it. Maybe even give me my own code name.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” He gathers up his umbrella and looks back at me, hand on the knob. “It's not going to be easy, you know.”

I shrug. “Like they say, nothing worth it ever is. You're worth it to me, Mycroft.”

“As are you to me. Good night, Gregory.”

“Good night, love.”

*****

“You're in a chipper mood today, sir. Especially after court.”

“Am I?” I smile at Donovan as I walk pass. “You sure?”

“Very. So, who's the lucky girl?”

“Oh, no one you've met. Grab me a coffee when you get yours. Has what's-his-name gotten back to us?”

“The report should be over in less than twenty minutes. And, Annette Jones called. Wanted to know if you were in.”

“Is she going to call back?”

“I said you'd probably be back around lunch. She hinted that she might come by.”

“Yes! Okay, get things ready just in case. If she does decide to testify against Micky Roberts, she's going to need protecting.”

“On it.”

When Donovan brings me my coffee, I let myself smile for a minute, remembering last night. Then I push all thoughts of Mycroft to the back and get to work.


	6. The Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A taste of how things are going to be.

My phone's ringing as I come in the next morning. “Lestrade.”

“Good morning, Detective Inspector.”

“Morning, Mycroft.” There's a smile on my face that fades as I hear a flight being announced. I fall into my chair. “Can you say how long you'll be gone?”

“A week only. I hope.”

“Still part of that call from the other night or different?”

“Related.”

“Okay. Well, thank you for calling me. I'll see you when you get back, yeah?”

“That is my hope as well. I'll have Anthea call you.”

“All right.”

“And that matter regarding my dear brother. If you wish, you can inform him.”

I laugh. “You just don't want to do it yourself.”

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Detective Inspector.”

“Sure you don't. Go on then, you have your fun and I'll deal with dear Sherlock. I'll miss you. Tell Anthea to take care.”

“I shall. Good day.”

“Bye, love.”

*********

“Sherlock.”

“Lestrade.”

I don't say any more, can tell by the way he's circling me that I don't need to. So I stand there, smiling as John comes down from his room. 

“Hello, Greg. Sherlock, what are you doing?”

“How, Lestrade?”

“How what?”

“How did you get him to agree?”

“I asked.”

“Just that?”

I nod. “Just that.”

“What are you two talking about?”

“It would appear that Lestrade and Mycroft are now a couple.”

“Mycroft? As in, your brother Mycroft? Wait, is that who you were going on about?”

“Yeah.” 

“John knows?”

“We had a talk before Mycroft said yes.”

“Well, wow. You and Mycroft. I mean, congratulations.” John holds his hand out. 

“No worries John. Not the most expected thing in the world. And thank you.” I shake his hand, then pull him into a hug. I see Sherlock staring at me, an obvious question on his face. “Not a word,” I mouth before letting go of John. 

“So you and Mycroft. Wow. Who else- I mean-”

“Just Anthea. She kinda helped it to happen.”

“Soo, your team-”

“Donovan suspects, asked me who the lucky girl was the morning after. I'm letting her think it's a she. Anyone else is going to go to her for answers.”

“Mor-morning after?”

It takes me a second to realize what John's thinking. “No, not that. Not yet. He got called away. Left the country this morning, be gone a week or so.” I pull at my ear. “Not sure when that's gonna happen.”

There's a snort behind me. “Or even if. Knowing my dear brother-”

“I can tell you he's a great kisser, though. I mean, really really great.” I feel the smile coming back. “Yeah, fantastic even.”

“Lestrade, if you don't have a case for me then I have more important matters to attend to.” I manage to keep from laughing til his bedroom door slams shut.

John tries to keep a straight face but can't do it. He does manage to be quiet about it and it takes us a minute to get hold of ourselves.

“Well, that's done. Now, the more important reason I'm here.”

“Which is?”

I clap my hand on his shoulder. “Taking you down to the pub so you can teach me about the care and feeding of a Holmes.”

“Ah. It's a tricky thing, that. The feeding is near impossible for one. You know he's never even told me what his favorite food is. Acts like it's some damn bloody secret.”

“You don't say.”


	7. First Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the waiting.

“Good afternoon, Detective Inspector.”

“Anthea, a surprise to see you here. Donovan, you go on ahead and I'll meet you there.”

“I don't mind waiting, sir.”

“No, you know how the line gets. Try and save me a spot.”

Donovan looks from me to Anthea, then back again before nodding as she leaves. I can see her backward glances but pretend not to.

“Your sergeant seems rather protective.”

“Naw, she's just trying to work out if you're my new girlfriend.” _Should known that wouldn't get a reaction out of her._ "And thank you for not laughing out loud at that.”

“Not at all, Detec-”

“Please, Greg. Or Gregory like- No, just Greg will do.”

There's a slight smile on her face. I know why but I'm not going there, not now.

“As you say, Greg.”

“So, you both back or just you?”

“Mr. Holmes will be back tomorrow. That's why I'm here.” She takes an envelope out of her coat pocket and hands it to me. “He hopes you'll be free.”

“Your handwriting on the envelope?”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes thought it would be better for a female hand for the outer correspondence.”

I nod. “Would have suggested it myself, thought I was going to be able to keep the secret a bit longer.”

“When did your Sergeant Donovan discover it?”

“The next day. I was in too good a mood coming from court.”

“I see.”

“Go ahead and smile. You'll hurt something keeping it in like that.”

There's a small chuckle. “I shouldn't say, but Mr. Holmes was much the same way. It was remarked on by more than one person.”

“Really?” Damned smile.

“He very nearly smiled broadly once. Was just able to stop it in time.”

“Wow. Way to give a bloke a big head, compliment like that.”

“You are good for Mr. Holmes.”

“You mean that, Anthea? I mean, really? I know you helped us out, but you were under orders to do it.”

“I do. I am glad for the both of you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“I should be going. A few matters I have to look at.”

“Oh, no. Go on. Thanks.”

“Good day, Greg.”

 

*********

I catch Donovan looking at me now and again, when she thinks I'm busy. I'm going to have to figure out something with Mycroft about how to play this.

I don't look at the envelope til I get home. It's thick paper, good quality like you would expect. My rank and name on the front, c/o the Yard.

The writing inside is Mycroft's. And in French. I take a second to admire that fact before reading it.

**My dearest Aramis,**

**I regret my hurried departure. Allow me to make it up to you.**

**My car will pick you up tomorrow night at seven. You have the next day off, so bring an overnight case.**

**Dinner will be a casual affaire.**

**Until then.**

**Yours always,**   
**Buckingham**

I laugh out loud, almost dropping the letter. I should have guessed.

I put the letter back in the envelope and walk over to my bookcase. Opening my copy of Monsieur Dumas' book, I slip the letter inside and return it to its place.

Now to decide what to pack. And what Mycroft's idea of 'casual' might be.

 

*********

Someone must love me, cause it's a boring day at work. No new cases. The type of day I usually curse cause it means there's time to catch up on my paperwork. But today it means no chance of being late.

Donovan still hasn't asked me, but I can tell she's talked to Anderson. So I make sure she doesn't see me splurge on a cab home instead of the tube.

A quick shower and a last check that I have everything. I decide on my court suit, minus the tie and shirt unbuttoned at the throat. I did buy new pyjamas and pants.

Seven and I'm outside waiting for one of Mycroft's black cars. But it's a posh one that pulls up. Fella pops out, hand out for my case, then opens the door.

The seats are the kind you sink into and you don't want to leave. And there's music playing. I know he saw the CD in my flat, but how could he guess this is my favourite track?

I expect to be taken to the club so I close my eyes for a moment and just enjoy the ride. But when I open them again I see we're heading out of the City. It's not long before I realize the neighbourhood we're in and that's when the nerves come. He can't really live out here, can he?

It's not the biggest house we pull up in front of, but it's big enough. Set back aways from the other lots, with a fence surrounding it. We have to get buzzed in and wait for the gate to open. Lights on here and there but not lit up like the others.

My bag's out and up the front steps before the driver comes to open my door. When he leaves, I see by the license that it's a rental car. It shouldn't make me feel better but it does.

“Gregory.”


	8. Spending the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Mycroft's house.

I turn around to see Mycroft at the door, holding my case. He's done up much the same as me, so that's a relief. I smile as I step toward him. “Aramis, Mycroft? The priest you give me?”

“Well, a case could be made about the similarities of the order and the department. Plus you have neither Athos' melancholy nor Porthos' foolhardiness.”

“Nor d'Artagnan's youth?”

“Naiveté.”

“And how were you sure that I could read French? Most don't even consider that I can speak it.”

“The condition of the book. It was not age but use that made those creases in the spine.”

I shake my head as I follow him into the house. There's just enough light to keep from bumping into things. There's a grand staircase ahead of us with some light visible. I can't tell what the rooms are to either side of us but reckon that they are sitting rooms and such.

“If I hadn't seen that the car you sent was a rental, I would have thought it was yours with a house like this.”

“A recent acquisition, from a former colleague. He had to make a hasty departure and required some money. I got it 'for a song'.”

"Oh? And were you the reason for this hasty departure?”

“No, that was his own stupidity. I merely helped to expedite matters.”

“I see.”

“We can leave your case in the room I have put aside for you and then proceed to the back.” Mycroft starts to walk toward the stairs but I grab his arm and pull him back.

“Something the matter?”

“Yeah, I haven't done this yet.” I lean forward for a kiss. His free hand comes up around me and I press closer to him. “Love you. Now you can show me my room.”

We go up to the second floor and down to the end. “I detected a specific order to your possessions at your flat and thought perhaps you would like a separate place to lay out your personal items.”

“How is it you could see that and my ex-wife just thought it was a mess?”

“I could say much on that regard but I won't. And I trust that is not the only observance I will make that she did not.”

“Don't be cheeky, Mycroft.”

“Never.”

I follow him into the room. The light's on in the bathroom and I can just see around. The bed looks to be a single and the dresser and wardrobe are a plain, dark wood. “The manservant's quarters, I take it? Yeah, there's the connecting door.”

"As I said, the room is for your personal items. I suspect it will also decrease any issues concerning use of the shower.” He sets my case on the bed. “The room was chosen for its proximity, not for any possible connotation. I-. Well, it is not my intention that you sleep here.”

“Is that so?” I let him see my smile as I walk toward him. “And what exactly is your intention, Mr. Holmes?”

I expect an admonishing look from him but he doesn't. Instead he clears his throat and reaches for my hand. “It is my intention that you join me in my bed. At every possible opportunity.”

“A very good intention.” I give him another kiss, then a deeper one as I press against him again. He stays in it for a bit then pulls back. “Dinner is waiting, Gregory.”

I look at him. “One of those temperamental cooks come with the house?”

“Yes, but he is quite good.”

“He better be. Okay, lead the way.”

Instead of going back down the main stairs, Mycroft takes us down the back stairs and down a short hall to the kitchen. The cook flashes us a look, so I just smile and wave at him as we pass.

The table is outside in the middle of a good sized garden with flowering plants to either side. There's fairy lights strung up on the trees nearby and I think there's some on the bit of woods that's further down from us. The candles on the table and the moon overhead are the only other lights.

“It's a lovely table, Mycroft. And quite the view.”

“I do believe it was the view as much as anything that sold me on the house. Even if the neighbors were given to such things, it would be hard to look onto the property.”

We sit down and a moment later the cook comes out pushing a small trolley. He pours out the wine first then lays the plates down. He fusses a bit with how it all looks, then he leaves.

“I hope you enjoy your food. Since I couldn't ask you about any allergies, I choose steak and vegetables, similar but much better than what was served at the fund raiser you attended last year.”

“That was a good steak. Be hard to beat that.” I cut into the steak, happy to see it is indeed medium rare. “So, you've been watching me as long ago as that, have you?” I smile at his expression, then close my eyes as I bite into the piece. “Oh, you're right. This is better.”

"I don't know what you are talking about.”

“I have to admit, only noticed it in the last few months. Thought it was because of that case of Sherlock's that he disappeared on. But if you know about that fund raiser-”

“You must have told me about it.”

“Cept we weren't talking about such things back then. I mentioned that rotten case after it, but we were just past talking only about Sherlock. I wouldn't have bored you with something like that.” I smile as I take another bite. “You don't have to tell me how long you've been watching me. I'll just enjoy that fact.”

A little smile shows up on Mycroft's face he starts to cut into his food. “More or less than I should enjoy your outburst at what Sherlock said about loving me?”

“Oh Christ.” I drop the fork and cover my face. “Of course he told you about that.”

“So it seems I am not the only one guilty of protectiveness.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then stuck my tongue out and reach for my wine.

“I think you will find the wine does pair nicely with the steak. And I believe there is a saying, about not sticking something out unless you are going to use it.”

I almost drop the glass, I'm choking so hard. And the smug bastard's sitting there like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

*****

“1864.”

“Sorry?” The dishes are cleared and we are having our tea.

“1864. That is the year I was born.” He looks over at me. “You did wonder, didn't you?”

“Once or twice, right after you told me.” I look down at my cup. “How old were you when it- I mean when-”

“When I died?”

“Christ, Mycroft.”

He looks toward the woods. “That is what happened, Gregory. I died, was killed to put it plainly. I was twenty-two. The aging wasn't stopped like in the cinema, just slowed.”

I want to ask the how, see if there was a why. But then I don't want to know.

“Anthea told me when you and her-” _Fucking say it,_ “When she gives you the blood, she cuts her hand and puts it in a glass. Said Sherlock does it the same way.”

Mycroft looks at me as he reaches into his inside coat pocket for something and puts it on the table. I flick my eyes down, taking a moment before I can reach for it.

It's about as long as my hand and heavier than it looks. More a pen knife than a pocket one. There were engravings on it but too many years have worn them down. I look at Mycroft for permission before I pull the blade out.

I don't have to feel it to know it's sharp, just the look of it tells you that. There's a bit of a stiletto about it.

“You were expecting what the books and movies tell you. The feeding from the neck. I knew those same stories and yes, that is what I did for many years. But the stories don't tell you how hard it is to pull away when the blood is so-. They would have you believe you gain mastery over it. But that was never the case with me. Each time brought death. And that caused complications. So I changed it.” He might as well be in one of his meetings from the way he's talking. Removed. Not sure if that's for my benefit or his.

“The glass.”

“I let the blood cool, start to congeal. It becomes more medicine than sustenance. It allows me to live, but doesn't put the donor at risk. Better for the both of us.”

“And you just use the one? One at a time?” I haven't taken my eyes off the knife the whole time he's been talking. Just turning it over and over in my hands.

“It is safer that way.”

“She says you push the limit on the trips. Don't drink as often as you should, in case someone were to see.”

“That is the main reason, yes.”

“But not the only one, is it? You don't want to risk taking more than she can give you. Doing it here and when you travel. Cause you know she'll just take it as part of the job, like not getting enough sleep. And you actually care too much to do that to her.”

There's no answer from him. I glance up to see him back to looking at the woods.

_Can I do this? Should I?_

I hold the knife for a minute more, than let out a slow breath. I give it to him, watching the look on his face as he feels the blood drip onto his other hand. “I'll take in the cups, get me some points with the cook.”

And I do get a bit of an approving look when he sees me washing up. Not that he would admit it, most likely.

I start to head back outside, but I can see from the door that Mycroft's not there. A look down the hall shows no one at the back staircase. _Damn._

Not knowing what else to do, I make my way upstairs. A glance inside his room shows him standing on a small balcony overlooking the garden. “Mycroft?”

“Do you know what you are offering me, Gregory?”

“Maybe not. Doesn't mean I wouldn't. I know I don't taste as good as Anthea, but – Fuck!”

Mycroft's close enough to touch now and I didn't see him cross the room.

“You are mistaken. Your blood.” His hand comes up and touches my face. “Just those few drops. Like nothing I have tasted before. If I had known you before, what I would have done. Perhaps this was - No. I dare not say it. Do you trust me, Gregory?”

Something about him makes me stop and really think on it. He takes a step back, his hand drawing back. I reach out and grab it.

“Yeah, I do. With my life, if it came down to it. And yeah, maybe I don't know what it means, but I'm offering it anyway. Me, here at home. Her, on your trips out. Tell her to show me how to do it. And I will. Whenever you need it.”

“I will tell her. But I will not hold you to it til she tells you all of it. Then, we will see.” He leans in and kisses me. “And if you chose not to, I will understand. No, no more talking. Come with me.” His hand turns to take hold of mine and leads me into my room and toward the bed. “Lie down.”

He arranges me so I'm full on the bed, with just enough room for him to kneel next to me. “Close your eyes.”


	9. At last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft has Greg where he's wanted him for some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies but there is a little bit that got left off of chapter 5, where Mycroft goes to Greg's flat. Just so you know why Donovan looks at Anthea the way she did.

I feel his hands on the buttons of my shirt, undoing them one by one til he can pull the shirt open. I expect him to have me sit up to take it off, but his hand comes up my undershirt instead. I lift up as I feel his fingers, pinching and scratching at my chest.

His other hand works at my belt and trousers, loosening them so he can reach into my pants and take hold of my cock. I gasp as he pulls it out and starts running his nails up and down. He's going so slow, all the time in the world. 

“Keep your eyes closed. I'll let you know when you can look.”

My protest gets swallowed up by his kiss. I open my mouth to let him in, sucking on his tongue. One hand grabs hold of his wrist, to keep him there I think.

Mycroft breaks the kiss when he feels my struggle to breathe. I try to lift up to follow his mouth, but a twist to a nipple has me falling back to the bed.

“Mycroft!”

“Shh, just a bit longer, Gregory.”

I spread my legs open, arching up into his hand as my free hand grabs at the covers. I want to open my eyes, see what he looks like while he's playing me like a damned violin. But I do what he says and keep them closed.

His hands are rougher now. I know I'll be seeing the trails his nails are making on my chest tomorrow. And his thumb is worrying the head of my cock on the upstrokes.

“Fuck, Mycroft.” I lick at my lips, hoping he'll take the hint and kiss me again. But he doesn't, just keeps at me, driving me crazy bit by bit.

“I must admit, I have wondered how it would be. Having you at my mercy, as it were.”

“My-”

“Yes, Gregory? Is there something you wanted to say?”

“Myc-”

“Mike? No, sorry. My name is Mycroft.”

“Bastard.”

“Now really, Gregory. Is that a proper thing to say to someone who has you,” I cry out as his hand grips my cock tighter, “like this?”

“Fuck!”

“In due time. But first, I want to enjoy this.”

Now he kisses me. Teasing at first, pulling away if I move. Then deeper, almost pinning me against the bed.

“Don't worry. You can repay me in the morning.”

His hands pull away. Before I can say anything, the bed shifts and I feel him taking off my clothes. Then nothing.

“Mycroft?” I reach out, trying to find him. “Mycroft?” Just as I'm about to open my eyes to see if he's still there, he grabs my hands and pulls them over my head. I can't believe it when I realize he's cuffed me to the headboard. 

“Mycroft!”

“Cliche, perhaps. But there is something to be said for the classics. I would take care on how hard you pull on those, unless of course, you know how long such marks would last. Do you, Gregory?”

Luckily, I am saved from having to answer that. He pushes my legs apart again and sits between them. One hand goes on my thigh, thumb making light circles. Which means the other hand is- “Fuck!”

Two of those long fingers pushing inside me. I ride out the bit of pain, forcing myself to relax. There's a hiss as he works in deeper. Then a cry as he takes me into his mouth. My head falls back, going side to side on the pillow.

His hand slides up to my hip and keeps me pinned to the bed. And those cuffs are digging into my wrists but I don't care. “My- Mycroft. Fuck. Please.”

For an answer he speeds up. Fingers deeper in. Mouth further down.

Hard to catch my breath. To beg him any more.

Then he's gone again.

“Now, Gregory.”

I open my eyes, head coming up to look for him.

That's when he yanks me up by my hips and shoves into me. I scream, back coming up off the bed. He's pushing my legs back, deeper and deeper inside.

Now there's a hand working my cock and it's almost too much. Vision fogs up. Blood rushing in my ears.

Then he hits that one spot inside.

One. Two. Three.

And I scream. 

Then nothing.

 *****

 It's warm around me.

Can't move. Don't want to.

Hear music, low with no words.

Open my eyes enough to see no lights on.

“Are you back with me, Gregory?”

A hand moves down my back. Wet. In the bath then.

“Gregory?”

Give a little nod, feel him against me now.

Arms tighten around me. Lift me out of the water and down onto a towel.

“My-”

“Shh, don't try to talk yet. I have the fire going in my room and it should be warm enough now. When you wake up I'll have the tea ready, maybe some porridge.”

Next thing I know I'm in bed, covers pulled up around my head. Then I feel Mycroft slide up next to me. I make myself press up against him, a couple of tries before my arm goes around him.

“love you.”

“Shh, sleep now.” I feel a kiss on my forehead then I'm gone.


	10. Greg's Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg returns the favor.

It's still night the next time I wake up. I feel Mycroft up against my back with his arm around my middle. I lay there with my eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. Trying not to think of how long it will be til I have it again.

I press more against him, turning just enough to look at him. Between the fire and the moon from outside, I can see his face. I'm just able to touch his cheek, smiling as he leans into my hand. “I love you, Mycroft Holmes.” The whisper doesn't wake him, leaving me to watch him for a bit longer before falling back asleep.

*****

There's a hand going up and down my back, kisses to my hair. His other hand has me pulled close on top of him.

I give a sigh and feel his hold on me tighten just a little. “Gregory?”

“Hello, love.” I wrap more around him as I raise my head. “Sleep well?”

“I did. Better than I have in some time. And I believe I have you to thank for that.”

“Mmm, you're welcome.” I kiss him. “My pleasure.”

“I certainly hope it was.”

I have to chuckle at that. “You have no idea, love.”

“You're welcome.”

“Cheeky.” I kiss him again, deeper. Then again. I lift up and start to move down his body. Kisses, licks, nips.

He lets his hands slide over my body as I go. He's making these little sounds, ones that go straight to my cock. I feel his own cock pressing up against me. So I lift up more to not touch him.

“Gregory.” It's a growl from him.

I don't answer, just keep going. I moan at the hard pull he gives my hair, then move away as I settle between his legs. I put my hands on his legs as I lean down and start to lick at his balls. I take them into my mouth one at a time, sucking hard on them. I can feel his cock as it twitches against my cheek. 

I stay down there longer than Mycroft would like, longer than I like, tell the truth. But I'm going to take my time. Going to give him something to remember when he's in those boring meetings of his. On those car rides of his. Maybe even make Anthea ask him what's the matter.

“Gregory.” Another growl. Shall I tell him it doesn't make me want to do what he wants, but to not do it just so I can hear him make that sound again?

But now I can't make myself wait. I give one long, slow lick from right behind his balls up to the tip of his cock. I get my knees under me, looking at him as I do.

His face is flushed, breath coming hard. His hands go here and there, not knowing what to grab hold of. I can just see his eyes through the slits of his lids. He's pulled his legs out and back, giving me a little hollow to be in.

And now I have something to remember. Something to see when my eyes are blurry with paperwork. Something to guard against Donovan.

I grab hold of his hands and put them behind his back. His eyes are shut now, head going back as he thrusts his hips up toward me. I blow over the wet skin, smiling at the curses that come from him. I'll ask him later which languages they were in.

Then slow, careful, I go down on him. I just let my teeth scrape the head, working the foreskin down with my lips as I go. The sounds he's making – Christ!

I end up having to grab both of his hands with one of mine so I can keep his hips on the bed. I let more and more of him into my mouth, working my tongue down the shaft.

The blush on his face is working its way down his chest, curse of the gingers I reckon. Or maybe just for him.

“Greg-. Gregor-.”

I look up to see him trying to get out the full version of my name he insists on. I help him out by sucking hard.

“Gregory!”

“Yes, love?”

I should make this last longer. Little payback for last night. But I can't hold out much longer. I want my prize.

I lay on top of him, groans from us both as our cocks become trapped between us. I kiss him, taking the breath away from him even more. I keep hold of his hands as I reach for where I saw the lube. It's when I break the kiss and look down at him that I freeze.

There's no- when he- last night-

He stares up at me, somehow managing a smile. “Don't need them, Gregory. No worries. We're safe.” He leans up to kiss me, bringing me back to living. “That will never be a worry.”

A hard shudder runs through me. Don't remember the last time I was with a bloke and didn't have to-. I kiss him harder, working the lube inside him. He brings his legs up more, letting me do what I want.

When I'm done, I pull away. I give a few swipes of the lube to my cock, then push into him. I have to close my eyes, squeezing them tight. Knowing that I'm in him with nothing between us. Actually _feeling_  him.

“Shh.” His hands come up and pull me to him. It's me having trouble breathing now. I feel his touch, up and down my back. Then he lifts my head and kisses me again. A kiss that starts a buzzing in me. I grab hold of him, my tongue pushing into his mouth. And I start to fuck him. Short strokes that get longer and harder. I force his legs back towards his chest, opening him more to me.

I need to breathe but I don't want to pull away. I want every bit of connection with him. Crave it.

He pushes me back finally. When I protest he gives a hard squeeze around my cock, forcing me into stillness. Then he starts thrusting up.

That's all it takes. I grab, scratch, bite him. Fucking him even harder. Marking him as mine. And he lets me. Leaning up to my nails, my teeth.

I fumble for his cock, roughly matching my strokes. I pull away enough to watch him. See his face as he gets closer and closer. Then have my breath taken away at the sight and feel of him coming under me.

Everything stops as I watch. Memorize. Never forget this long as I live.

Then I feel myself getting close. I try to hold off but he doesn't let me. Thrusting up against me, his eyes staring at me.

I come when I realize he's doing the same to me that I did to him. Memorizing.

I slump on top of him with a groan, wrapping around him best I can. I should move out of him. We should clean up.

“In a moment, Gregory.”

I smile. “Bloody mind reader.”

“Only when it's important.”

We lay there, not long enough, before he shifts under me. With a sigh I get up, holding out my hand to help him up and to the shower.

I insist on kissing every mark on him I've made, even when he won't accept my apologies for them. His fingers move over them, feeling them. His tongue moves over his marks on me.

I stoke the fire and he changes out the bed linens. When we lay back down I wrap back around him, kissing him good night before tucking my head under his chin. I feel him chuckle at my yawn.

“Love you, Mycroft.”

I'm almost sleep when I hear it. So quiet.

“As I do you.”


	11. The Next Morn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late breakfast leads to a new experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who waited and wanted.

It was the smell of the tea that woke me up. A second later, the porridge reached me. I open my eyes to see the trolley. But no Mycroft.

 _Not liking that_. I sit up, body aching in ways it hasn't since my marriage. I frown. Since rather early in my marriage.

The sunlight's blocked enough so as not to be blinding. Also so I can't guess what time it is. Something I don't mind in the least.

I pour out the tea, looking around for a note. I can't hear him talking on a phone, so he might be downstairs. Give a taste to the porridge, happy to find I only need to add a little sugar. And that there is only one bowl.

I sigh, then make myself snap out of it. I still have the rest of the day free. Could use it going through the house and the grounds. See if he's freed up before I have to leave.

I go fetch my dressing gown from my room, then take my porridge and tea out to a chair and table out on the balcony. There's an overhanging that makes just enough shade. No sight of him in the garden. I take a moment to admire it in the sunlight and try to take the measure of the woods at the bottom. A bit late I think to look around at the houses on either side, but I can't be seen as best can tell.

“I do believe I will take lunch in the garden today.” It's a shite posh but I don't care. “Or may go traipsing through the woods and save the garden for evening cocktails.”

“I don't see why you can't do both.”

“Christ!” I manage not to spill any of the porridge on me as I turn to see Mycroft walking toward me, also in his dressing gown. 

“You could have a light lunch in the garden, then have the cook pack you a sandwich for the woods. Return to the garden for the drinks. After dinner, of course. You are staying for dinner?”

“Most definitely.” I catch his hand and kiss it. Then shiver as he slides it on the back of my neck and rests it on my shoulder. 

“And I needn't mention the accent?”

“Hey, not like I get much practice.”

“May I suggest an alternative?”

I smile up at him. “I love hearing you speak French.”

“Then for the rest of the day, it shall be nothing else. And perhaps...”

“Donovan can't speak a word of it.”

“Perfect.”

“You've eaten already?”

“Coffee and some toast. Woke up at my usual time and couldn't go back to sleep. At least it enabled me to keep my promise about your breakfast.”

“That couldn't have been a long sleep, considering how late we were up.”

“It was enough.”

“Do you need-”

“No, I am quite fine. Thank you.”

“You should have woken me up, wouldn't have minded.”

“Sherlock called soon after.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep.”

“A brief reprieve, I fear. You may well find him on your doorstep on your return.”

“I'd ask to move in in that case, but he would just turn up at the Yard instead.” I finish my porridge and reach for my tea. I look at the balcony as I drink. “Enough room here for another chair.”

“Not sure how long it would take to find a matching one.”

“Well, we can share this one til then. Wide enough.” I wiggle to prove my point. “You can't weight that much.” I pat my lap.

This look crosses his face and I feel his hand start to slide away. I manage to grab it, giving a little squeeze.

“Your brother's an arse.” I've switched back to English. “I don't know how that nonsense started, but you know how I feel when he goes on like that. I would be more than happy to make his life unpleasant for you.”

“Why, Gregory. How terribly romantic of you. But I would rather a different show of your devotion.”

“Anything.”

“You've already surmised the hidden aspect of the balcony.”

“Yeah, checked it when I sat out.”

“Then show yourself to me. Pleasure yourself for me.”

I feel my face getting hot. I might have been able to talk my way out of it if another part of me hadn't told another story. I look around again, even more than I had before. I take a deep breath, still not sure.

“Show me.” _Fuck_. His voice is right in my ear and he's gone back to French. “Show me.”

I close my eyes as my hand moves under my dressing gown. I don't untie the belt, but flip the sides back for him to see. I run my hand up my thigh then grab hold of my cock. His hand's holding tight to mine now and I concentrate on that.  
   
It takes a few strokes for me to forget where I am and just think about who I'm with. I let my head fall back and stare up at Mycroft.

“How long has it been since you have done this for someone?”

I shake my head. “Never have.”

“Never?” He's surprised.

I just shake my head again.

“Then let me show true appreciation for this.” 

Mycroft moves away from me, leaving me to grab at empty air. He stands near the railing, far enough out for me to be unable to touch him. He makes a show of undoing the belt, but doesn't take the dressing gown off. Instead he opens it for me to see him. 

Flashes of what we did last night come as I look at him. The marks I left on him on still visible, but only just. My hands and mouth remember touching his skin. And I squirm as I look at his cock, feeling it again inside me.

“Don't stop, Gregory.”

The strokes become faster, my other hand now squeezing at my balls. I spread my legs open, ass half off the seat. The belt's coming undone but I don't bother with it. I just keep looking at Mycroft. See him moving closer. See what I'm doing to him. “Oh fuck.”

He pushes my knees further apart as he leans over me. I manage to steal a kiss, then close my eyes. Already so close. Want to make it last a little more.

Then my mouth is taken in a hard kiss, his hands grab my shoulders to keep me in it. He's kissing my air away, making me strain to breathe. But I don't stop my hands. I feel the tightness in my chest, feel my heart pounding. Then I scream into his mouth.

My hands fall to the sides as he lets me go. I suck in deep breaths, my head swimming. I lift my head when I feel him sit on my lap. The hiss as he traps my cock turns into a groan as he trails his finger through the mess and licks it. 

“Thank you, Gregory. For giving yourself.”

I smile as I wrap around him best I can, kissing him.

“Anything.”


End file.
